| Song | Health Surface |
| Artist | Crass |
| Album | Penis Envy |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Crass | |
| Places of sickness nurse me cold, | |
| Attendant whiteness glare in dark, | |
| Straighten out the winding sheet | |
| Twisted round in poorest dreams. | |
| Shattered proofing of the lost, | |
| Splinter shackled, little wounds | |
| Of cruelty and truth, they tie | |
| The one way sickness up inside. | |
| Regressive smile, a baby's laugh, | |
| A learnt contortion of the mouth, | |
| Places of laughter leave me cool, | |
| Hot fire dying down to ash. | |
| Beauty breezes through so swift, | |
| Endless roundabout of grief. | |
| Not much to ask, a rightful place | |
| Where nothing matters, but can't touch | |
| Without a sinking heart, this sigh | |
| Could be the wind among the leaves. | |
| This pain does not belong to me, | |
| They've taken everything away | |
| To nurse the sicknesses of loss, | |
| Instilled with fear and bleachy guilt | |
| Impatient winds up in her cloth. | |
| The tired shoes are splitting up | |
| With weighty promises of love, | |
| Waiting for the last to fall away | |
| Buckle noose around the strap | |
| All that separates the flesh | |
| From green grass or sinking mud. | |
| Stagnating, knowing the delusion, | |
| Clean sheets waiting for a body, | |
| Slapped into life and slowly gutted. | |
| A place of sickness is to die in | |
| Tired of the cruelty and lying, | |
| Drip-fed tears of the forsaken. | |
| They say, "Well soon have you up and walking". | |
| Took the prison for a stronghold. | |
| Took the lies for a love-song. | |
| Paid for life on a shoestring. | |
| Waiting for the last to fall away | |
| Buckle noose around the strap | |
| All that separates the flesh | |
| From green grass or sinking mud. |
| zuo ci : Crass | |
| Places of sickness nurse me cold, | |
| Attendant whiteness glare in dark, | |
| Straighten out the winding sheet | |
| Twisted round in poorest dreams. | |
| Shattered proofing of the lost, | |
| Splinter shackled, little wounds | |
| Of cruelty and truth, they tie | |
| The one way sickness up inside. | |
| Regressive smile, a baby' s laugh, | |
| A learnt contortion of the mouth, | |
| Places of laughter leave me cool, | |
| Hot fire dying down to ash. | |
| Beauty breezes through so swift, | |
| Endless roundabout of grief. | |
| Not much to ask, a rightful place | |
| Where nothing matters, but can' t touch | |
| Without a sinking heart, this sigh | |
| Could be the wind among the leaves. | |
| This pain does not belong to me, | |
| They' ve taken everything away | |
| To nurse the sicknesses of loss, | |
| Instilled with fear and bleachy guilt | |
| Impatient winds up in her cloth. | |
| The tired shoes are splitting up | |
| With weighty promises of love, | |
| Waiting for the last to fall away | |
| Buckle noose around the strap | |
| All that separates the flesh | |
| From green grass or sinking mud. | |
| Stagnating, knowing the delusion, | |
| Clean sheets waiting for a body, | |
| Slapped into life and slowly gutted. | |
| A place of sickness is to die in | |
| Tired of the cruelty and lying, | |
| Dripfed tears of the forsaken. | |
| They say, " Well soon have you up and walking". | |
| Took the prison for a stronghold. | |
| Took the lies for a lovesong. | |
| Paid for life on a shoestring. | |
| Waiting for the last to fall away | |
| Buckle noose around the strap | |
| All that separates the flesh | |
| From green grass or sinking mud. |
| zuò cí : Crass | |
| Places of sickness nurse me cold, | |
| Attendant whiteness glare in dark, | |
| Straighten out the winding sheet | |
| Twisted round in poorest dreams. | |
| Shattered proofing of the lost, | |
| Splinter shackled, little wounds | |
| Of cruelty and truth, they tie | |
| The one way sickness up inside. | |
| Regressive smile, a baby' s laugh, | |
| A learnt contortion of the mouth, | |
| Places of laughter leave me cool, | |
| Hot fire dying down to ash. | |
| Beauty breezes through so swift, | |
| Endless roundabout of grief. | |
| Not much to ask, a rightful place | |
| Where nothing matters, but can' t touch | |
| Without a sinking heart, this sigh | |
| Could be the wind among the leaves. | |
| This pain does not belong to me, | |
| They' ve taken everything away | |
| To nurse the sicknesses of loss, | |
| Instilled with fear and bleachy guilt | |
| Impatient winds up in her cloth. | |
| The tired shoes are splitting up | |
| With weighty promises of love, | |
| Waiting for the last to fall away | |
| Buckle noose around the strap | |
| All that separates the flesh | |
| From green grass or sinking mud. | |
| Stagnating, knowing the delusion, | |
| Clean sheets waiting for a body, | |
| Slapped into life and slowly gutted. | |
| A place of sickness is to die in | |
| Tired of the cruelty and lying, | |
| Dripfed tears of the forsaken. | |
| They say, " Well soon have you up and walking". | |
| Took the prison for a stronghold. | |
| Took the lies for a lovesong. | |
| Paid for life on a shoestring. | |
| Waiting for the last to fall away | |
| Buckle noose around the strap | |
| All that separates the flesh | |
| From green grass or sinking mud. |